
I need this, alright? I need to get outta the funk of a prick of a day. Coolrunnings started the trend, now the new Best Coast will get me over the line. Guilty pleasures are often the best. So...there.
Best Coast - The Only Place



I "discovered" the Clean when my sister dumped a whole load of music on my Ipod back in 2005, courtesy of her then douche boyfriend (not saying she now has a douche boyfriend, just that the guy then was a douch...anyway...). I loved 'Tally Ho' from the get go, and have been wanting to see them ever since. My sister was disappointed by them at Pavement ATP last year, but it doesnt take much for her to be disappointed, so tonight I get to make my own assumptions.Local indie ambient kraut rockers Blank Realm are first to occupy the stage. This is my first time of catching these guys live, although having been a fan of last year’s Deja What it was highly anticipated – and they don’t entirely disappoint. Whilst clearly chuffed to be supporting The Clean, Blank Realm’s set includes a barnstorming rendition of Full Moon Door, and some crazy frontman dancing to close out the set. The band is heavy on the instrumentation fluctuations between the members, and this may have impeded their performance, but it all comes together in a shambolic yet wild and ambitious way that has the small crowd eager for more – hopefully very soon...
The Deadnotes + The Legend! are up next, and what a lovely warped band they are. Starting off with some noirish throbbing bass and slinky sax, it isn’t long before the Legend quirks it up tenfold, wearing his wide brimmed hat and daggy attire, often chanting like a drunken uncle doing karaoke at a BBQ. Im Not Joking Around evokes Gang of Four’s Jon King in his manic arm movements and vocal delivery, whilst the lyrics are steeped in stream of consciousness repetition, with chanted vocal interplay proving to be sharp and impressive. Don’t Dial Me is avant garde art punk, whilst Hey You Arrogant Bastards sounds like an antipodeans’ Mark E Smith. Its all rather carnivalesque - I Like Dogs, anyone? - but a fucking ace show nonetheless, and the band leaves having set the bar incredibly high.
The Deadnotes + The Legend! - Make A Grand Entrance
The Clean open with epic instrumental At The Bottom, David Kilgour very much on song tonight, before breaking down into a stellar set of classic songs running the gamut of their back catalogue that has everyone riding high on the good time vibes. Name checking the Go Betweens and The Saints as all time influences as they rip through Factory Girl and Do You Wanna Go, the band particularly nailing it on Fish when they go into instrumental mode, proving they have lost none of the soul and bounce that made them the seminal underground act that they clearly still are. Special mention must go to Robert Scott, whose basslines are so fat and juicy that they fall off the bones of these tracks with delectable accuracy. In The Dreamlife U Need A Rubber Soul makes its presence felt, whilst Whatever I Do Its Right sees Kilgour take on the organ and allow his brother Hamish to take lead, to great effect. There’s enough space for the band to play their version of a punk song, before the inimitable classic Tally Ho and effervescent Beatnik see us out the door.
Seeing as this is my "first time", Im not sure whether the 22 year absence from these shores has energised them or not. All I know is, no disappointment here - The Clean are still the shit.
The shit hot conga line of music flowing through Brisbane's perennial rock venue The Zoo continues tonight with New Zealand's premiere purveyors of indie pop The Clean making their first appearance Down Under in almost 20 years. The Flying Nun founding act are supported tonight by the excellent locals Blank Realm (whose album of last year Deja What is pretty bloody special - I will wax lyrical about it in due course) and The Deadnotes & The Legend. Every act on this bill will be exciting to catch, so make sure you get down there! Tickets are still available too, as there's a plethora of acts vying for people's attention in the City tonight, with hipsters Best Coast occupying Woodland, blues maestro Justin Townes Earle at Step Inn, and...ahem...Alan Jackson.
No Joy - Hawaii from Salazar on Vimeo.




Its getting a little boring. The current trend of summery, shimmery, scuzzy, lo-fi pop meanderings have been dealt with in all ways, shapes and forms over the past 18 months. There are some great purveyors of this sound (my current favourite –
Don’t get me wrong – I find that some bands really nail the aesthetics of this ‘new’ style and create something beautiful. I just don’t see the longevity. Its becoming a pastiche – nay, a cliché – of hipster fey charm and dark sunglasses, summer angst and/or ennui, drifting meanderings…yawn.
But still, there are artists that plumb the depths of this already depleted genre to create something of value. One such artist is Dustin Payseur AKA Beach Fossils, a bedroom wanderer who, through eminent label Captured Tracks (who I have the utmost admiration for, and although they have helped to flood the market with likeminded acts, they ARE supporting music in a completely positive and exciting way, which I really love), has dropped a self-titled debut of sun-kissed assurance. And although these tales of slacker existence may not offer anything new, the cock and bull that pervades a lot of the current trend is amiss here, and Beach Fossils is all the better for it.
Some of these tracks have been floating around for some time before this release (Youth, Sometimes), with its soft sound complemented by an incredibly catchy guitar hook and Payseur’s barely awake vocals awash with reverb. Nothing new there, you might think. The trick is the virtuosity of Payseur’s songwriting and guitarwork – simple structures that set up the sunniest of riffs, evident in almost every track, held aloft like a trophy – as he should, as just one of these tunes would make a lesser band’s centrepiece in an otherwise lacklustre recording session. And Payseur himself, whilst sounding like he’s fallen into a vat of syrup but can’t be arsed finding his way back out again, nevertheless infuses every track with a certain sunny, even likeable effervescence that any angle that may have smacked of hipster chic beforehand has been buffed to a much calmer, smoother reality.
So all in all there isn’t anything overly original on Beach Fossils. What we do have is a Brooklynite who actually knows what he’s doing – he’s the kid who’s building his own rocket whilst the rest of the neighbourhood lark about smashing mailboxes and riding on their daddies’ fat wallets. He may affect that he has nothing to do, but if this is what results from malaise, we need to make it an institution.

